Variance
by theeatenheart
Summary: Sometimes something starting off all wrong can end up being so right; it's the variables an moments between the ends that make the difference. NM-AU. Bella, Peter, and Jasper


**Variance**

**Chapter One: All Wrong**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight nor any of its characters. This story is a non-profit work of fiction and no copywrite violations are intended.**

**Warning(s): Non-canon pairings and some OOC-ness (though I hope it isn't painful). Starts off a little mopey but won't stay that way. **

**Ivy's Song Pick for the Chapter: The Velvet Underground- Candy Says **

"**I hate the big decisions that cause endless revisions in my mind"**

**CHAPTER ONE: All Wrong**

**BPOV**

This wasn't happening, it was all wrong—an accident.

I didn't mean to, and yet… the glass, raw and sharp-edged jaggedly tore through my skin leaving a slow burn of red in its wake. The first cut should have been enough to snap me out of the stupor I had fallen into but I was still a zombie, blindly fumbling clean the mess of shards now scattered across the kitchen floor. I should have recoiled from the sting and the dull throb, consequences of picking of the shards of glass with bear hands. I should have bandaged my hand before sweeping the fragmented up into the dust-bin with a broom.

Should have. Could have. Would have. Didn't.

The pain was such a welcome reprieve from the emptiness I'd been living with for months after _he'd_ left, taking my second family with him. I had been so numb for so long and now, all because of a stupid cut, I felt the pain again. I couldn't have been more relieved: I could still feel. Suddenly, I was no longer lost, no longer the little girl wandering through the woods searching for the boy who had left her broken, taking with him all of her feelings and dreams. Sweet clarity, I recognized the hurt I had held in myself for so long, the hurt I had ignored and buried so deep within my heart I ceased to feel anything at all.

Edward. I had loved in so much—too much, too soon… blindly. I had believed I loved him so deeply I had lost myself in an ill-begotten quest to keep him by my side, cutting myself off from my friends and Charlie in an attempt to hold the interest of a supernatural being of untold strength and beauty. Despite my best efforts I was still not enough for him, not who he needed me to be: a human striving to inspire unending love in a vampire who only knew how to take in a relationship, how to mold someone else, rather than to give and bend.

So naïve. I was selfish in my wants and I blinded myself to the truth. Edward never loved me as I had wished. I was interesting: he couldn't read me, innermost thoughts or otherwise. I was unusual—a challenge—and I was enamored with the notion of his loving perfection I ignored the obvious truth of the matter: there was no love, only fascination, on both sides of the relationship.

Unhealthy. We used each other, I surmised. While he may have grown affectionate towards me, I was the challenge: resisting my blood, trying to read me, trying to anticipate my feelings on his vampirism. And me… I used Edward in the same way, though I blindly thought it to be love. He was frustrating in his perfection and mannerism. Hot and then cold. Open and Shut.

Unlocking the mystery of Edward Cullen was my goal and along the way I fancied myself in love, and maybe I had been, but not to the extent I should have allowed him to strip me of myself to fit his ideals. I hadn't eaten healthy enough so he would stand watch as I prepared meals, ensuring I nourished myself to his standards. My taste in music, while consisting of some classical sensibilities, was otherwise crude and unbefitting a young lady. My friends, Jacob in particular, were uncouth and unfit for my company—too wild and a bad influence. He thought I was too fragile to handle my own life; clumsy to the point of near physical incapacitation—an over exaggeration. And I let him treat me this way, thinking it was sweet he cared so much, talking myself down from tantrums when he patronized my "youthful" or "flighty" opinions.

When he left me, abandoned me, in the woods, my little puppy love bubble popped, scorching me with reality. I wasn't what he wanted, despite allowing him to sculpt me in his misguided image of the perfect mate. At the time I believed I simply wasn't enough, he had said so, after all, a sneer painted on his perfect face. And I was a shell, first over the pain of loosing my supposed love and then over the my own inability to trust in myself enough to love and live again—all because one forever seventeen year old had told me I wasn't good for him.

I snapped myself from the revelry, my hand still burning, glass shared embedded in my pale skin. And, like a fool, I stepped forward towards the sink, feet crunching over the remaining glass in my haste to remove that which was stuck in my hand.

Shooting pain my foot, I started, pitching forward towards the counter-top and then _crack_.

I fell to the floor, thrusting my hands out to cushion my fall, forgetting the glass pressed in my palms until the impact pushed them further into my hands. My forehead felt wet and when I lifted a shaking hand to my hairline I knew I was touching blood.

Everything was wrong: it wasn't supposed to be like this. I wasn't supposed to be stumbling to the phone, desperate to call for help. I didn't want to die. I didn't want to hurt: I had hurt enough. I wanted to feel: I wanted to live.

I skittered across the laminate, knees buckling and vision spotting as I reached for the phone, knocking it from its cradle to the floor. I cursed, first bending and then falling, hard for the second time, onto the floor. The phone slipped from my blood soaked grasp but after a few desperate attempts I held it secure. I couldn't see the numbers, blinded by a white hot pain and a dull throb near my temples, so I dialed blindly, hoping to hit 9-1-1 before my sight and sensed failed me entirely and I knew only a sharp pain in my head and then nothing.

When I awoke I was still lying on my kitchen floor. My eyes felt gritty and my limbs were heavy, as if they were being held down by weights. Someone was talking to me, but their voice was muffled, almost as if I were hearing them from under water. I blinked, craning my neck towards the speaker, the movement causing tiny black dots to scatter across my vision and making my head spin, muddled. I kept my eyes closed, willing the dots and accompanying nausea away.

"Bella," I heard, though through the fog it sounded more like 'El…a".

"Bella, hon, you've got to let me know you can hear me. Come on, sweets, you need to help me out here."

'Sweets?' I mentally questioned, confused. I couldn't recall a single person ever calling me that. I wrinkled my nose in concentration, attempting to grasp into my surroundings, though the motion made my blood rush in my ears, the pressure behind my eyes a dull throb.

"Oh thanks God! Bella! Can you speak? I'm going to take you to the hospital. You…you hurt yourself; there's a lot of…b-b-bl…well, it's everywhere. The b-bl-bloo…you know what I mean, " the voice trailed off, choking over their words.

Blood? Everywhere? Taking me to the hospital? My train of thought was cut off by a sudden feeling of weightlessness and a cool, comforting touch and it all suddenly made sense, sort of. In a true illustration of Murphy's Law I had managed to crack my head on the counter after slicing my hands open on broken glass, eventually passing out from pain, and now I was in the arms of a vampire—one I didn't know, the voice was new to me. Though this vampire apparently knew me, caring enough to take me to a hospital; caring enough to resist what surely must be the mother of all blood lusts, for though I had my eyes closed I remembered the bloody mess on the kitchen floor.

"Who?" I managed to croak.

I passed out before receiving an answer.

**PPOV**

How the hell was I supposed to do this? Bella lay broken and bleeding on the floor in front of me, glass embedded in her arms like push pins. Her hair was plastered to her scalp and her breathing was shallow, her pulse slow.

I knew things were going to get worse before they got better—wasn't that always the way? How much worse I wasn't certain, but I knew: I always knew.

Her blood was everywhere and all encompassing, smelling like a crisp fall morning with an undertone of something else, nutmeg maybe.

"_She's important,"_ an echoed reminder from the depths of my mind from a silent communicator, _"save her"_. I grit my teeth together, clenching my jaw.

Despite my penchant for knowing things before they happened I wasn't a mind reader, nor could I see clearly into the future. The niggling presence looming in the corners of my mind deemed me ready for pieces of knowledge, whispering instructions and details to me concerning events of the past, present and future. Sometimes I could answer questions or gain knowledge for myself instead of waiting for it to be bequeathed unto me: I took everything I knew, factored in variables and potentials, and, like some kind of cosmic supercomputer, my mind spat out the most likely outcomes, of which one always seemed to be the truth, verified and stamped with approval by the whispering voice, the nameless presence in my mind.

I placed Bella in the backseat of the car I'd stolen while passing through Oregon, absently noting I'd have to ditch it soon, knowing I was only tempting fate holding onto stolen property for so long. Hopping into the driver's seat, I turned around, making sure Bella was secure before pulling out of her driveway and heading towards Forks Community Hospital.

Halfway to the hospital I stopped, pulling over and starring blankly at the road ahead of me. All wrong. This direction was all wrong. But why? No dangers lay ahead, no discernable ones, at least. Forks Community Hospital, while no leading medical facility, was more than well enough equipped to help Bella. They would be able to contact her father. Stop. All wrong. But why? Her father loved her and would be worried about her soon, terrified by the bloody scene in his kitchen. Fact. I knew.

Frowning, I turned to gaze at Bella. She was still unconscious, her breathing more regular. She twitched in her unbidden slumber.

"_East," _informed the whisper.

But why? She needed medical attention, immediate medical attention. I was no doctor but I was fairly certain she had a mild concussion and required a few stitches for the cut on her forehead—fact—not to mention the glass still embedded in the palms of her hands and on her forearms. I was hesitant to deviate from Forks Community Hosptial… I was only minutes away… and yet.

"_East,"_ the voice persisted, _"you need to go East. Now._"

Where was the next closest hospital? Eidetic vampire memory spat out my answer: Olympic Memorial Hospital.

"_Yes," _came my answer, _"hurry."_

I needed no other information or encouragement, the car was already in drive and I was speeding off to Port Angeles, every second farther from Forks feeling more right than the last.

AN: Well, I did it. I posted. Good God someone save us all. So, I'm not much of a writer. It's a hobby, not a career. Having said that, I'm going to state the obvious. I make mistakes—my tenses change and my grammar isn't perfect. A beta would be a heaven sent mercy—if you know anyone or are interested please contact me! I'd be appreciative!

Um. Ya. So hi! I hope people enjoy this story and my writing… I realize I'm not bringing anything all that new to the table—the character of Peter has largely been fleshed out by other talented members of the fandom, most notably IdreamofEddy who gave us "knowing" Peter.

I'm from Vancouver, Canada, so while my knowledge of the Washington area isn't completely barren I'm not an expert—any information is gleaned with the aid of Google Maps, sorry for errors!

Huh. Well. There you have it! I haven't actually settled on a pairing for this tale. I loves me some Peter (obviously) but I can't decide if he's going to be a romantic interest yet. My other option is Jasper. Or should I do both? *eyebrow waggle* I always did enjoy me some P, B n' J *leer*. What would you peeps like to see? The romance will be slow going, I have things to go through before a relationship sprouts, so I have at least two more chapters before a true decision needs to be made… or I could always do a spin off? Ah! Who knows!

Please tell me what you think (within reason people, there's no need for nastiness).


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